We cooked one dish. Roast Saddle of Lamb with Green Sauce. And while I didn’t exactly watch the clock, it must have taken a minimum of five hours. There were five separate components to the dish, each one of which, except for the stock and the deboning of the lamb, we prepared from scratch. By the time we finished the class, and had our photographs taken with the finished product—sweaty, triumphant, and reeking of cooking smells—I had developed a new appreciation for chefs and the many delicious complicated gourmet meals I have had over the years. I also wondered:  If I had taken culinary in college, would I have become a good chef?

THE DUCASSE WAY

Because of its partnership with Alain Ducasse Formation in France, Enderun Colleges sometimes holds Culinary Master Classes and workshops to give media a firsthand introduction to ADF+Enderun’s culinary principles, teaching philosophy, and methodology. I had attended one such class about a year ago, and from that came away with an understanding of the care, the exacting standards, and the attention to detail and quality that go into the creation of each dish that is served in an Alain Ducasse restaurant—the same principles that are taught to its students.

ADF+Enderun executive chef Marc Chalopin, who had worked with two world-acclaimed chefs—Alain Ducasse and Joel Robuchon—taught our class. Handpicked by Ducasse, he supervises the ADF+Enderun culinary program and ensures that the Ducasse standards are preserved and properly communicated to the students. We would be cooking in one of Enderun’s teaching kitchens, beautifully set up with a station for every student—prep area, chiller, sink, stove, and oven—all reachable by turning around or taking just one or two steps.  Our mis en place (“everything in place,” meaning all the ingredients and utensils needed for cooking) had been set up for us ahead of time.

The recipe title itself seemed simple, until I saw a page crammed full of ingredients and procedures, in small print. Some written in the culinary shorthand that I knew meant much more work than was actually written down. It was here that I had my first lesson: The correct timing is crucial when preparing a meal.

We started off with the components that would take the longest to cook.

First, the tomato confit. Chef Marc demonstrated what he wanted done, explaining his techniques and the reasons behind them. And then it was our turn. Score an x into the tomato’s skin, immerse in boiling water for 15 to 30 seconds, remove and plunge into an ice-water bath to arrest the cooking.  Doing this makes it easier to slip off the skin. The tomato is cut into thirds, the insides scooped out, flattened, sprinkled with salt and olive oil, and baked in an oven for one hour.

SWEAT VERSUS SAUTÉ

Next we prepare one of the vegetable sidings. Chef Marc demonstrates again and leaves us to it.  It is a little tedious to neatly cut off the top of a red onion to make a little hat, and then neatly scoop out the insides while leaving a thin outer layer intact. We pierce the little hat with a toothpick and cook the onion in boiling salted water. If you have timed it right, your red onion will turn a vibrant purple color. And if you have done the toothpick trick properly, the layers won’t separate and you will have what looks like a little Chinese coolie hat. 

We make the stuffing for the onion: finely minced green onions and bacon “sweated” in olive oil and butter. Sweat, Chef Marc explains, means to cook over low heat until any liquid evaporates, and the vegetables become tender. “We do not want the vegetables to color,” he reminds us.  My second lesson is the difference between sweat and sauté, which is to cook over a higher heat until slightly browned. We cool the mixture in another ice water bath and add grated Parmesan cheese. We pack our onions with the stuffing, the little cap adding a jaunty touch.

By watching Chef Marc, I understood how a long, complicated recipe is broken up into easier, more manageable steps. He teaches by demonstrating, explaining, and then leaving us to imitate, a method that enables even non-cooks to cook. As he talks and demonstrates, I can see how the philosophies and culinary methods of Alain Ducasse are slowly but thoroughly ingrained in students. He constantly moves around the classroom to check on us, help us out when he sees us floundering, and do a bit more explaining when we ask questions.

Wielding his paring knife quickly and deftly, the chef shows us how to make perfect baby carrot halves from a larger carrot. We all produce lopsided versions.  How many carrots does it take, I ask the chef, before you get them perfect? Hundreds, he laughs. Thousands, I am thinking. Our carrots—and eventually the stuffed onions, too—are simmered and constantly basted in chicken stock and butter until they are tender and the liquid is reduced to a syrupy consistency.  All this work and we haven’t even done the lamb yet!

                                                                LESSONS IN LAMB          

We spread our saddle of lamb with a mixture of finely minced fresh parsley (flat leaf is tastier than curly, Chef Marc tells us), breadcrumbs, garlic, and olive oil; roll it; and truss it up with kitchen twine.  The chef reminded us to tie the lamb just tight enough to keep its form. If it is tied too tightly, the heat cannot enter and it will be tough. I season the lamb generously with salt and pepper and sear it off on all sides in a pan with olive oil, about five minutes. This gives the lamb a nice brown crust and color before roasting. The lamb will be roasted in the same pan. We add a generous knob of butter, some sprigs of fresh rosemary, and a handful of garlic cloves.  There is nothing more delicious than the smell of browning meat as it mingles with the scent of garlic, rosemary, and sizzling butter! The lamb will cook in the oven for 12 to 15 minutes for medium rare, and should be basted and turned often. After that, it is removed, tented with foil, and left to rest for 10 minutes to allow the juices to withdraw back into the meat.

While our lamb roasts—hungry, sweaty, feet and backs aching—we move into the home stretch and prepare our sauce. Once more our chef demonstrates and once more we go back to our own stations to mince and cook with a little bit more confidence than at the beginning of the class.  Our mixture of onions, carrots, celery, and chicken stock is whirred in a blender with a large handful of parsley, olive oil, and more butter. The result is bright green, and tastes and smells like a garden on a summer day! We strain it and taste it for seasoning. My third lesson is that seasoning with a little salt and pepper is done at every step and, as we are told often, to taste everything. And my final lesson from Chef Marc: Butter is good!  Butter is that ingredient that makes many restaurant dishes different from what we cook at home.  It brings a sauce together and adds texture, taste, depth, gloss, and finish. 

Chef Marc demonstrates the plating for us—a large white plate, with each component of the dish positioned precisely—colors and textures creating a still life painting on a white canvas.  We do not have to follow exactly he tells us. This is just an example.  But I want to do everything just like a chef, and follow to the letter!  My plate is not as pretty, or as neat as his, but it will do.

At the end of our class, I am exhilarated, and leave with a satisfying sense of accomplishment.  The opportunity for culinary training from a highly regarded institution like ADF without having to leave the country, and the availability of a school such as Enderun when I was in college, quite possibly may have changed my entire career path.  I’m happy with my writing and eating, cooking at home, and playing chef at the occasional culinary master class, but I will always wonder about “my path not taken.”